wicked alice| fall 2009

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Kevin McLellan





Lily, a friendly stranger, says ďNo one has

ever guessed where Iím fromĒ at this cold

New Yearís Eve bash and I easily grabbed

a hold of Tallahassee and I became correct

and now as we dance to Golden Years, she

looks in my eyes as if they opened inward

to my body remembering itself and this is

when she calls me psychic.
















Dear Kate, it doesn't matter that the almost

-a-girlfriend showed. This secret amidst the

other secrets in that room mingled freely in

front of the shrimp crepes and brie, and this


exposure is why some adults are not able to.
















Desdemona dear, had your parents not read the story

before they named you?  And what do you have that

I do not?  Wait!  Donít answer that.  I know that you

are younger than I am and that Iím also deserving of
















Denim holds a hefty girl


who throws-up a mango-

color just after this pink


neon              PYSCHIC


ADVISOR at the corner

of a 3-story on Prospect.         









Kevin McLellan has recent or forthcoming poems in journals including: Arch, Barrow Street , Drunken Boat, Exquisite Corpse, Hunger Mountain, Interim, Southern Humanities Review and many others.  His chapbook Round Trip, a collaborative series with numerous poets, is forthcoming from Seven Kitchens (Spring, 2010).  Kevin lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.